Just To Hear You Breathing
by starbuckmeggie
Summary: Some things in life just feel right. Carby


Title: Just To Hear You Breathing  
  
Rating: PG-13ish  
  
Spoilers: Only up to "Chaos Theory." Yes, I'm once again kicking it old school. Also, these Carter stories I'm writing tie in with the Abby stories I have, so go read those, too. *wink wink nudge nudge*  
  
Archive: 'Twould be fabulous.  
  
Feedback: Relax...you know you want it.  
  
Disclaimers: Yes, they're mine. I'm also Maura Tierney.  
  
Author's Notes: You know where to look.  
  
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I've never felt anything more perfect in my entire life. We may be under quarantine in a hospital, lying in a hospital bed, but it's still the most exquisite feeling in the world.  
  
Abby Lockhart is in my arms, not quite asleep, but not quite awake.  
  
I had almost resigned myself to the fact that this would never happen. I never even thought I would get the chance to kiss Abby, never mind be able to hold her after mind-blowing sex. Bt I am.  
  
I think I'm in awe right now. I can't seem to stop staring at her. I want to take everything in, try to capture this moment so I'll never forget a single detail; the way her hair falls across her face and scatters on the pillow, the steady rise and fall of her chest, the gentle, comforting weight of her arm draped over my side, the way her legs are tangled with mine, how relaxed she is, how much younger she looks without the weight of the world resting on her shoulders. She's perfect. Everything was perfect.  
  
Not many people can claim that their first time with someone was perfect. If you're lucky, you can give it a "good." Usually, though, it's awkward. If not the doing, then at least the after. More than once, I've found myself staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell I was supposed to do next. But not with Abby. Once I finally managed to move myself off of her, so I wouldn't crush her perfect little body, she immediately turned on her side and cuddled into me, and we wrapped our arms around each other and just breathed. The need to make conversation hasn't arisen, and the silence is anything but uncomfortable.  
  
One of the things that astounds me most about Abby is how tiny she is. Obviously, I knew she was a small person. She's only a little over five feet tall. But she's so strong and tough, especially when she's working, that she often seems larger than life. It was different once the clothes started coming off. There was something about seeing her without barriers in the soft light that made her look impossibly small. She's so tiny and delicate that I really thought that I was going to crush her. I was afraid to hold her too tightly. She never felt that small on the few chances I've gotten to hold her in the past week. But maybe it was just my nerves. Because I definitely was nervous about making love with her. She called me on it, though. She said she wasn't a China doll and to stop being so careful. Of course, I complied.  
  
If I wasn't sure before, then I am now-I'm in love. I can't help it, and I can't stop it. I am crazy in love with Abby. Not that I can exactly tell her yet. That'd kind of be the kiss of death. We need to spend more time together before I can make that particular declaration. Nothing scares a person off faster than saying "I love you" after a week. Besides, as twisted as it sounds, I think she needs to be the first one to say it. I don't want her to feel pressured to say it to me just because I've said it. I've had a lot more time to think about all this than she has, and I knew I felt like this about her before I slept with her. She's kind of gun-shy about relationships as it is, and she needs to come to terms with her feelings in her own time.  
  
Part of me wonders if we would have slept together after only eight days if we hadn't been locked in a hospital together. Not that I haven't slept with someone in less time than that, but I wanted things to be different and special with Abby. These are unusual circumstances, though. I haven't been able to date her the way I wanted to. We have been almost constant companions for the past week, though. I can't complain about that. So, I guess we've been doing a quarantined version of dating. Not to mention the year and a half to two years of foreplay we have under our belts. The time was just right.  
  
Suddenly, I'm greeted by a pair of sleepy eyes blinking at me. I guess she hadn't fallen asleep after all.  
  
"Are you staring at me?" she asks, trying to stifle a yawn.  
  
"Mmmhmm," I answer, reaching out a finger to touch her cheek.  
  
"Well, stop it."  
  
I can't help but chuckle a little. "No can do. Not right now."  
  
"How would you feel if I stared at you?"  
  
"I'd understand."  
  
"You're impossible."  
  
"It's part of my charm."  
  
She cocks an eyebrow at me. "You're lucking you're cute," she says, leaning up to kiss me.  
  
It's not an exceptionally passionate kiss; it's more of a post-coital bliss kiss. Very tender and gentle.  
  
When we break apart, all we can do is look at each other. She's so mesmerizing, and I like the content, happy look on her face. It takes me a few moments to notice that she's trembling.  
  
"Why are you shaking?" I ask, already concerned.  
  
"I don't know," she says with a shrug.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
Then she grins at me. It's a smile I've rarely seen up to this point. It's a smile that could light up the world. "Somebody has a healthy-sized ego."  
  
I feel my face start to heat up. That's not what I meant. "No, Abby, I didn't mean..."  
  
She shushes me with a brief, sweet kiss. "I know. I was just teasing you."  
  
Trying my hardest to not do something very juvenile, like tickle her, I ask again, "Seriously, are you okay?"  
  
She nods slowly. "I'm okay. I'm great, actually. A little sore, and I may walk a little funny in the morning, but I'm good."  
  
"You're sore?" The last thing I want to do is make her hurt in any way.  
  
"Well, you have to remember that it's been about a year since I last did this. My body has to readjust. It's a transition I'm more than happy to make."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Believe me, Carter, I wouldn't trade this feeling for anything in the world." She gives me a curious look. "Are you okay?"  
  
"I feel better than I have in a long time. It's a while for me, too, you know."  
  
She pauses for a moment, and I can just tell she's trying to calculate the last time it was I had sex. "Yeah, I guess it has been a while. Can you believe we held out this long for each other?"  
  
"Abby, I would have waited for you forever."  
  
Now, she's the one who blushes. It's a good look for her. I'll have to try to make her blush more often.  
  
She clears her throat, and I can already tell she's going to change the subject. "You know what I really liked?"  
  
"Oooh, now you're going to tell me about my prowess?"  
  
As I knew she would, she ignores me and continues. "I liked that you talked to me. No one's ever done that before."  
  
Okay, now I'm a little confused. "You're going to have to clear that one up for me."  
  
"During sex. You talked to me. You asked me what I liked, if I was okay, if it felt good...it was really nice."  
  
I hadn't really thought about it. Talking is just something I do, I guess. "I just want to know that you're enjoying it as much as I am."  
  
"And believe me, I dd. This was the first time I ever felt like I could tell someone where to go and what to do. Usually, it's just 'wham, bam, thank you, ma'am,' for lack of a more delicate description. I really liked that you cared enough to ask."  
  
"Well, I'm pretty much the sure thing in this scenario. You're the one who needs more...coaxing."  
  
"That's one way of putting it."  
  
I pull her closer to me. For whatever reason, it never occurred to me that talking during sex would mean so much to her. Or I guess it never occurred to me that most men didn't talk during sex.  
  
"So, was it...good...for you?" I hate asking that, knowing it sounds really cheesy, but I have to know.  
  
"Yeah, it was good for me. I had an orgasm, didn't I?"  
  
"Yeah, but women can fake those."  
  
"I don't. I don't believe in stroking a man's ego if he's not getting the job done. If you have me moaning and groaning, it's because you're doing something right."  
  
"That's actually a good piece of information for me to have."  
  
"But, you know, it isn't always about having an orgasm. At least, not for women. Sometimes, it's just about the connection." "I know. But I like being able to make you orgasm. I like knowing that you're getting as much out of it as I am."  
  
"Seriously, how have you lasted this long without someone woman marrying you? Because, men like you don't come along that often."  
  
I smile against her hair. "I've been saving myself for you."  
  
I feel her give my shoulder blade a little flick. "Very smooth."  
  
We're silent for a while. I don't think either one of us is very tired at the moment, despite that she was halfway unconscious just a little while ago. We both want this moment to last. No matter how many times we make love in the future, this is the only time it's going to be after the first time, and it's pretty special.  
  
"You know, I wasn't too sure about being in a hospital bed at first. I thought it'd be kind of small and crowded. But, it gives me a great excuse to hold you like this." "Like this" at this point is me on my back, both my arms wrapped around her still tiny frame, with Abby draped so far over me that she's practically laying on top of me. It feels great.  
  
"Somehow, I don't think we'll ever need an excuse to sleep this close together. Even if we're in a king-sized bed, I'm going to want to sleep near you like this."  
  
With those few words, I think she's made me the happiest son of a bitch to ever walk the planet. It's not some deep or profound revelation, but knowing she likes and wants to sleep near me, so close together we've nearly melded into one person, makes me happy. It's not taking much at this point.  
  
I want so badly to tell her how much I love her. A small part of me can't believe that I've fallen so hard for her this fast, but it was a long time coming. There's no doubt in my mind that I love her. She's the one. She is the person I've been searching for all of my life. I've never done anything in my life that felt so...perfect.  
  
"You're perfect," I tell her, out of the blue. I feel her start a little, though I'm not sure if it's because she wasn't expecting me to speak, or because of what I said. "And don't try to tell me that you're not, because nothing's going to change my mind about this."  
  
There's silence for a few moments. "Well congratulations. You've rendered me speechless. I have no witty comeback for that one. Very few have ever managed to accomplish this. You should feel honored."  
  
"I feel honored that I'm here with you, that you trusted me enough to make love to you-"  
  
"John-don't. Please. I'll just cry or something. It won't be pretty. I can only handle so much sentimentality at a time." I kiss the top of her head. "Okay, I'll ease up. I'll try to spread the mush out a little more evenly next time."  
  
"Great. I've landed myself a romantic." I know the words are supposed to sound disgusted, but by the tone of her voice, I'd say she's pretty happy about being with a romantic guy.  
  
"Get used to it. Bouquets of flowers and random Hallmark cards are about to become a part of your everyday life."  
  
She lifts her head out of the crook of my neck and gives me a look. "I get it now-you're a hopeless romantic."  
  
"Hopeful," I correct her, grinning.  
  
"And you can quote romantic comedies."  
  
I just grin even wider.  
  
"I get the feeling I'm going to have my hands full with you."  
  
I can't deny that one. Instead, I gently pull her to me so I can kiss her once more. When oxygen becomes absolutely necessary, we pull away and smile at each other. The moment's only broken by her yawning and me following suit, then both of us grinning sheepishly. She leans in and kisses me once more before returning her head to it's previous position.  
  
"Goodnight," she whispers, though I'm not sure if I hear it or feel it.  
  
"Goodnight."  
  
I'm tired, but I still don't think I can sleep. I'm once again marveling over her laying in my arms. It feels unreal. Maybe I'm afraid that it's all a dream and that I'm going to wake up alone, so I should enjoy this while it lasts. Or maybe I am just truly astounded that I have finally reached the point where I have Abby Lockhart in my arms.  
  
Nevertheless, if I want to be able to wake up early enough to have an encore performance of tonight's events, I should sleep. Actually, that thought makes me tired. My body's suddenly anxious to sleep so the morning will come faster.  
  
I have a feeling that I'm going to like mornings a lot more from now on.  
  
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Author's Notes: I started writing this one while writing "I'm Walking Away," but I thought it best to deal with one story at a time. Much easier on my easily confused brain that way. I'm in serious need of fluffage, so the self-pronounced Fluff Fairy has decided to make a reappearance. BTW, C- dawg, thanks for not pressuring me to write or anything ;) As always, this one goes out to the Whore-she knows why. Also, it's for the Brothel, even though you guys suck cuz you get to hang out and such, while I'm stuck on the wrong side of the Mason-Dixon line. You're lucky I love you. 


End file.
